The Crow
by Marilyn Mondongo
Summary: 'He looks at them in the same way a lion watches its prey, but his eyes can't turn red anymore.' Itachi learns the truth behind his family's betrayal, a new clan is on the verge of dusk.
1. Prologue

**The Crow**

* * *

It's an unspoken rule that every clan head must go to pay their respects when a new heir of another leading house comes into the world. The rule, of course, is not limited to the small village of Konoha and much less to the shinobi world, but somehow Fugaku Uchiha always cried over his luck in situations like these, as if he was the only one forced to attend.

Being the leader not only of one of the clans of the village, but also of the most powerful of the world was a task that filled him with pride, and it was reflected (he made sure it was reflected) by his ego.

However, contrary to the thoughts of many civilians, the bosses among themselves -or rather, the houses with each other- did not maintain any friendship or fraternity. Still, he was supposed to attend and give his respects, because if there was something more important than actual friendship in this world, it was the appearance of it.

For that same reason the so-called secret formation Ino-Shika-Chö, was one of the worst (or best, who was Fugaku to judge) jokes he had heard of.

But not even the supposed camaraderie of those escaped the norm completely, since their union only began because it was considered militarily profitable for Konoha. In addition, this type of training was only allowed to the clan leaders and their first-born, so the so-called friendship -he supposed- came from the great amount of time that the shinobi of each house were forced to share with each other.

He let out a heavy growl that caught the attention of the little boy behind him, who raised his head to look at Fugaku. He accompanied him a little further back on the dirt road they had chosen to walk on. The route was longer and more rustic than the main road, but at least it would delay the time when both Uchiha would have to fake courtesies, or at least, _he_ would have to pretend, since he doubted Itachi considered the task equally heavy.

Clan heads and firstborns, all united to celebrate the birth of a new heir.

Fugaku snorted again, not two days ago he had visited the Nara family to meet the newborn Shikamaru, and now he was going to the Yamanaka. The children had been born one day apart, which he found to be comical when dealing with two clans with a "strong" relationship.

Perhaps they had planned it in advance; the Uchiha head did not dismiss it as a possibility and laughed.

That did not change how tedious the situation is.

* * *

The shinobi world had plunged, once again, into the overwhelming peace that followed a war that lasted too long, so it wasn't really surprising that many clan leaders hadn't been sure enough to _reproduce_ until now when the warlike conflict was behind far enough to give them some sort of… security.

As much security as their new pointed leader could bring. Which, by his standards, were scratching the bare minimum.

But then again, the Sandaime didn't make _him_ the Hokage, which -he knew- wasn't because he lacked leadership skills or was incapable of logical thinking, or even because he wasn't strong enough.

 _He was one of the strongest shinobis of Konoha, but he wasn't always in the spotlight like some sort of attention-hungry Namikaze, was he?_

No Uchiha would _ever_ be a candidate for the Hokage's position.

The wind blew the hair on the back of the head of Fugaku, black strands parted to show small silver threads that had grown in the past few years that the clan head wasn't aware of, and the suddenly cold air made him move his neck against the collar of his shirt.

Fugaku growled and furrowed his eyebrows, his already serious expression turning imperceptibly more somber because, here he was, walking through a dirty path to pay respects to a new heir from a clan who was considered his equal in council meetings because the Yamanaka's ancestors were smart enough as to shield themselves under the wings of the Sarutobi; just like the Nara and the Akimichi.

 _Cowards_.

He -his family, deserved that hat. At least once. There was so much he could do, so much he could improve if only they would give him the opportunity.

But Fugaku knew that it was too late for him, too late for his generation to be the one that changes their fate. Still, he refused to believe that his family didn't stand a chance against practically every other shinobi in Konoha when it came to aspiring to be the Hokage, refused to believe that his little boy, his prodigious little boy, couldn't dream about becoming the leader of his hometown.

Itachi coughed (clearly trying to get his attention) and Fugaku realized they had reached their destination, and that he, immersed in his own thoughts, was still walking down the road. He stopped and turned with elegance, automatically straightening his back and tensing his shoulders (showing no sign of his earlier distraction), and walked through the path of the Yamanaka compound until he reached his destination.

They arrived at the manor house and stopped just after climbing the steps, the wooden floor squeaking under the weight of their feet. He was greeted at the door by a slim, tall boy with caramel hair and pupilless green eyes who told him to please wait for just a second while sending a little girl inside to announce his arrival.

The kid disappeared then, and Fugaku was left alone with Itachi and the boy at the door.

When finally the girl returned from the inside of the house and the request of following was said, they were guided to a big room with brown wooden floor and walls. Large windows illuminated the space and allowed them to observe the interior gardens of the compound.

The inside was completely naked with the exception of four cushions: three red, one white -two already occupied and, in front of them, the other two-, and a petite table with a teapot and three cups already served.

The blonde man was sitting with his eyes closed, and beside him in the little white cushion was a small bulge covered in a blanket that he kept touching with his left hand.

"Uchiha," Inoichi greeted them without standing, "please." He pointed to the remaining cushions.

Both black-haired men settled into their seats without speaking, and Itachi offered his father one of the teacups.

Fugaku, out of habit of expecting poison, rejected it and Itachi, following his father's example, left his own on the small table. Fugaku saw the way his son's finger contrasted remarkably against the white and bright porcelain of the cup, and it wasn't until then that he noticed the dirt on the nail of his thumb. He glanced at Itachi with a pointed look.

Blushing, the boy covered it between his robes.

"I believe that congratulations are in order." Fugaku finally said, looking straight at the face of the other leader, Inoichi's lips curled up a little bit and slowly opened his eyes.

"Yes, I believe so," the blonde answered, caressing carefully the small bulge at his left. Itachi's eyes followed the movement under the blanket. "She's sleeping."

"Ah, so it's a girl then?" He asked, not really concealing the bored tone in his voice.

"Yes." He answered, a heavy pause following, his turquoise eyes looking at him unblinking, like expecting him to laugh. "Her name is Ino." There was that pause again, and Fugaku felt slightly uncomfortable, but Inoichi glanced at Itachi then, and the feeling went away. "I'm glad to see you, Itachi," he said, acknowledging the child's presence. "Would you like to meet her?"

Itachi looked questioningly at his father with a raised eyebrow.

Fugaku nodded once.

The little boy got up and walked the short distance between his place and Inoichi's, who picked up and held the little girl in his arms.

Her face was mostly covered by the blanket but Fugaku could still see a thin blond lock that crossed her face. Ino's eyes snapped open and Itachi smiled, vaguely, sweetly, carefully.

And then, in less than a second, Itachi's expression of calmness and curiosity turned to horror, the realization of what was about to come piercing everyone's ears.

She started to scream and cry, her tiny pink hands trying to reach something that wasn't there, making every attempt to soothe her useless.

"I think she might be hungry," Fugaku said, narrowing his eyes at the rude baby while Itachi got back to his seat.

"Ah-" Inoichi started when suddenly the shöji door flew open and an old lady in a green kimono entered the room, bowing at the occupants and reaching for the baby.

"Let me take her, Inoichi-sama," the woman said, before bowing again and disappearing with Ino in her arms.

And really, how they were supposed to keep a conversation about a newborn when the newborn wasn't even there?

"I heard that your son has just started the Academy and is already on top," Inoichi continued quickly, accommodating the collar of his shirt like Ino's outburst was just a slight inconvenience and not the thing that literally ended their meeting.

"Yes." He replied shortly but decided to add something for good measure. "He's our pride."

Inoichi nodded, "I presume." He looked at Itachi, "I'm sure you will be a great ninja, Itachi."

"Thank you, sir." He answered, looking at the floor.

"Konoha is always in need of more people like you, that is, strong ones, with a strong Will of Fire." He smiled, "I'm sure you will be an amazing asset to the police force."

"Ah- I guess."

"Of course! If you are this good with only five years, I can't imagine how excellent you will be when you're old." He looked up to Fugaku then, "Konoha is getting a lot of prodigies lately."

"Mh." He conceded, blinking at the sudden topic of conversation but not surprised, after all, the Yamanaka clan wasn't particularly known for having harvested a large number of prodigies on their lines, if they ever produced any, so of course when Fü Yamanaka showed any sign of being one they were going to presume him.

"Yes," Inoichi nodded to something no one said, probably just to reassure himself.

It was a common ground, not comfortable and not something that entertained him, but it was a known topic for him, it was just a regular conversation.

Until Inoichi glanced at his son once more, his smile still the same, but his eyes were full of pity. _Such a shame_ that look was meant to say, _what a waste_ , it appeared to whisper on Fugaku's mind.

And for a split second, Fugaku saw red.

* * *

Uncomfortable wasn't the right word to describe that situation.

Infuriating suited more his tastes.

If Fugaku had been alone, or in a situation that did not require him to control tightly his emotions, he would have bitten his lower lip until it bleed, he would have chewed his nails like he used to do when he was little or he would have punched Inoichi's face through a wall.

Instead, he contented himself with biting the inside of his cheek.

He heard the footsteps of his firstborn behind him on the dirt road and suppressed a smile, Itachi, the pride of the Uchiha clan. A prodigy, his own son was a prodigy, which was more, so, so much more Inoichi could say about his daughter. So why was that look on his face?

 _Why the fuck was that look on his face?_

He understood, eventually.

The tragic thing was, the understanding didn't come until the moment his beloved firstborn sliced his throat, eyes full of tears and drowning a sob, waiting for Sasuke to arrive.

 _And it would be all Inoichi's fault._

* * *

A special thank you to Boomvroomshroom who was my beta in this chapter.


	2. Parasomnia

**Parasomnia**

* * *

 _"Is it there?"_

The whisper echoed on the darkness of his closed eyelids, and without realizing he moved his eyes from one side to another, trying to locate the origin of the sound. _It's useless_ , one part of his brain mumbled at him, but he didn't hear it, wanting to open his eyes and see the face of the person that voice belonged to.

 _"Is it there?"_ The voice asked again, and he tried to open his eyes once more, but his eyelids remained closed.

He exhaled hard through his nose and inhaled as far as his lungs let him to, wanting to move one of his hands to his face and slap himself to get it together because what the hell was wrong with him, why he couldn't—

His hands didn't move.

Something almost like desperation crept up for his spine, it had being so long since he last felt it, since he felt something like that at all, and _why won't you move –what's happening –where am I –where are you?_

 _"Is it?"_ The sound re-appeared, anxiety reaching its tone.

'No.' He wanted to say, to give it some comfort because he knew that if he says so, the voice, the person behind that voice, would believe him. But his mouth wouldn't open.

 _Open_. He commanded, a little part of him thinking how stupid it was to actually ask it to _move_ , but he couldn't help it, he wanted. No. He _needed_ to speak.

 _"Is the monster there?"_ The voice cracked, and all his body tensed.

'No. No. It isn't there.' He thought. Loudly. Almost panicking at his incapability to move. His body wasn't responding and he had always counted with it before, with its muscular memory and reflexes, without it he was nothing, he was helpless, he couldn't protect them.

And he needed— he wanted— all his life was—

 _"Brother,"_ the voice cried and, not surprisingly, his heart clenched hurtfully at the sound of that word in that low, infant-like tone.

He didn't know what to do, he wanted to reach for it, for something, to protect it from all the darkness and fears that surrounded him, but his body wasn't moving, it wasn't responding, it wasn't acting the way he wanted it to.

"Yes," he heard his own voice respond, but his mouth hasn't open. "It is."

 _No. It isn't._

" _Brother_ ," the little child whispered, swallowing, trembling.

 _No. It isn't. It isn't there._ He thought.

And _Oh-_ _please just move, just MOVE ALREADY - there's no monster!_

" _Why?_ " he heard the question.

"Because-" his own voice rumbled once more. But it couldn't be his; it couldn't because his mouth wasn't moving. He wasn't talking - _I'm not him. I'm not him-_.

"-I wanted to prove the extent of my power."

There was a cold sensation that ran from the tip of his feet to his head, wrapping his muscles in waves, setting in his stomach and behind his eyelids. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't oblige his body to inhale, his throat was completely closed and his mouth wouldn't open. The sensation of desperation he had felt earlier expanded quickly around his body making him tremble.

A sharp ray of light emerged from his right, and he could not remember at what point he had opened his eyes.

He blinked and looked at the window of the room, his eyes were burning, and -surprisingly- his body responded normally.

 _It had been a dream._

The realization hit him and he froze, noticing his nakedness and the mattress that supported his back. His whole body was covered with sweat, but the air in the room was cold, according to the place they were hiding.

Itachi swallowed the feeling that had started to emerge in his throat at the remembrance of the dream and blinked quickly, once or twice, to ease the burning in his eyes, bringing a hand to his face and massaging his temple.

 _He hadn't been screaming, had he?_ That never happened before, or at least Kisame never said anything if he did, but Itachi knew that his partner wouldn't miss a chance to annoy him like he usually does. The last thing he needed was Kisame knowing about his nightmares. He wasn't worried about the teasing which, as annoying as it was, he could ignore, but he didn't want another member of Akatsuki to know anything about his brother.

He blew a lock of hair from his face and sat, watching his bare calves. He dressed quickly, repressing every thought so nothing on the outside could show any hint of what he had dreamed of. He was about to open the door of the bedroom they rented when a knocking sound reached his ears. He didn't stop the motion, already knowing the identity of the person looking for him. And so, he was greeted with blue.

Lots of blue.

"Sleeping much?" Kisame asked, a cocky smirk reaching his features.

For a second, Itachi entertained the idea of his partner knowing about his dream but quickly pushed it away, maintaining his expression emotionless. He eyed the swordsman, who wasn't fully dressed yet, his chest was bare and the Akatsuki tunic was on his shoulders, like a cloak. Samehada strongly secured on his back.

The Uchiha restrained himself from rolling his eyes. From the moment they reached _Tetsu No Kuni,_ Kisame had been walking around with no shirt whatsoever, and Itachi was sure it was the swordsman way to show him that he was capable of withstanding low temperatures thanks to his skin and his place of origin, unlike himself.

"What time is it?" Itachi asked. More to ignore Kisame's question than because he was curious about the time.

Kisame's smile shrank a little only to quickly lengthen, showing his whole teeth, "What, you have, like, no supervision to see the sky and find out?"

Itachi sighed, which was everything Kisame could get from him. It was too early for this, too early for that shiny-pointy smile of his, and the Uchiha wandered how Kisame managed to be like this every. Single. Morning.

"We're leaving." He said as a response, and walked past his partner.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Kisame open his nostrils, a wide smile spreading across his blue face.

"Oh, someone has been _nasty_." The swordsmen laughed and looked at Itachi with his tiny eyes.

Itachi didn't respond but halted enough his walk for Kisame to continue.

"Was it _good_?" He asked him, and before the inquisitive eyebrow of Itachi, he signaled his nose.

 _Kisame had smelled him._

And, even as gross as it was, Itachi was grateful that his partner believed that his sweat was there for other reasons than a nightmare.

"Keep your nose away." He warned, and resumed his walking.

"Oh, come on, you know I can't help it. This baby is as sharp as—"

"—your teeth, yes, you already say that."

"Then you shouldn't be asking me to keep it away," Kisame retorted, reaching up to him with only two steps thanks to his long legs.

"Can we not?" Itachi asked, looking ahead.

Kisame sighed, disappointed, and buttoned his robe. "You're no fun."

"I never said I was."

* * *

"So… do you know what day it is?"

They had been walking for hours in total silence, the only sound being their footsteps in the snow, the clicking noise of Samehada against the buckle of Kisame's bag and some occasional heavy breathing. But of course that was just too good to last, and Itachi was actually surprised that it had lasted so long.

"No."

"Really?" Kisame asked him, his eyes following the smoke that Itachi made when he answered because of the cold air. "I thought you knew - probably - I don't know - It had been years since you left after all."

"Kisame."

"What?"

Itachi replied by narrowing his eyes.

"Okay. Fine. Don't give me that look - _Geez_ -" Kisame growled, waving his hands dramatically. "So, I have been thinking - _shut up don't you dare_ \- like I said, I have been thinking, you know that back in Kiri the kids graduated from the Academy at the end of the year, right?-"

He paused, like expecting his response, but Itachi looked forward without giving him the satisfaction. Kisame didn't seem fazed by his lack of interest in the conversation, so he kept talking.

"Well, our- _their_ graduation structure was pretty much out of the shinobi system for their methods -it's still is, even when they changed the final _exam_ —" Kisame paused for a moment to kick some snow, "but even with that, the graduation occurred pretty much at the same time as other nations so _Kiri_ could have a new ninja generation to compete with the other villages at the chünin exams-," he snorted, "—which is totally dumb if you ask me, because every class sent, what, only _one_ representative? So they made teams with shinobi that barely knew each other and –why are you looking at me like that?"

"What's your point?" Itachi said, his patience growing thin.

"Today is graduation day…" Kisame smiled, "or maybe tomorrow, give it or take it a few days."

"And…?"

"Don't you have, like, a _brother_?"

And suddenly, everything clicked, why he had that nightmare the night before and why Kisame had being so quiet during the walk. Itachi almost tensed at the realization, but he stopped himself just in time and answered before Kisame could get suspicious.

"So?"

"Nothing. I thought you would be interested, that's all." Kisame replied casually, the grin on his face contrasting with the innocence of the statement.

"I'm not."

"Well, I thought—"

"—I don't talk about Sasuke." He deadpanned, calmly, watching Kisame from the corner of his eye.

 _He couldn't have known about his nightmare, could he?_

Kisame didn't flinch or move, smiling mockingly instead, "don't be like that. Is not like we have a lot of topics to talk about… like the weather or… the weather..."

"I don't talk about Sasuke." He repeated, slower, deepening his voice for good measure. "Focus on the mission."

* * *

She decided right there that her world had pretty much ended the moment Iruka-sensei said the name of Sakura instead of hers, -even if that was probably an exaggeration-, but, come on, it was just _ridiculous_.

"So, what did you say about being with me on the same team?"

She heard the voice next to her, and she felt, more than watched, the smirk on his - _stupid-_ face. She only growled as a response, and sank her face further between her arms.

She wanted to cry so badly.

It was more out of frustration than anything else; she didn't know how to handle disappointment because, in her twelve years, she had never truly experienced it. Her father always gave her what she wanted, she did well during the Academy - _all those good grades for nothing_ -, and even when she did feel bad when she couldn't quite grasp the concept behind a jutsu from her clan, she was pretty good at practicing them.

The theory behind them, she always thought, wasn't that important anyway.

But now she was experiencing the sentiment first hand, and she wasn't ashamed to say that _it sucked_ , and the thought of asking her dad for help appeared as suddenly as it disappeared.

Her father will be thrilled when he found out. If he didn't know already.

She didn't know how to handle the weight on her chest, and she didn't even care that the boys - _her teammates, oh god, they were her teammates now_ \- were waiting for her to move. She had experienced sadness, boy, if she did. Mostly the one that you feel when someone breaks your favorite toy, but deeper sadness as well; the red ribbon that she kept in the drawer of her nightstand was the proof of that.

This was different.

This was about her.

About her and her future and everything she had planned for herself.

Ino wasn't someone who did a stitch without thread, or that she liked to say about herself. She had decided since little that she would do successfully and achieve certain missions, positions, and rewards that could be decided along the way, but that she will do favorably nonetheless.

It was a plan too general, alright, but she had five years when she first planned it, and even when the objectives came and go triumphantly and the means with which she would achieve them could be modified, never did the goal.

And that goal was as simple as complicated: _Succeed_.

Of course, when she had five years old she didn't know that just a year later her best friend would become her rival, but instead of crawl and cry -which she did, of course, she did- and question her planning because life wasn't fair; she held tightly to it, and she thought that, by becoming the best kunoichi in the Academy, she would be put in the same team as Sasuke, and maybe Shino -as gross as that thought was-. But she wasn't.

So, summarizing, life sucked and she wanted to die.

"Ino…" The voice of that, stupid (alright he wasn't stupid, but he was also really stupid), lazy-ass boy sounded from next to her again.

She didn't respond.

"Ino," Shikamaru called her again, and she lifted her head and looked at him with all the hate she could muster, which was a lot.

"I heard you already!" She snapped and took pride in the surprised expression of their faces.

Unfortunately, Shikamaru recovered quickly, and narrowed his eyes at her, "Ey. Don't yell at me. I didn't arrange the teams." His tone of voice was so _boring_ that Ino didn't know if she would be capable of tolerating it until her next promotion.

"It won't be so bad…" Chöji spoke for the first time, munching the last crumbs of his bag of chips.

"Whatever. Just. Ugh." Ino mumbled, standing from her seat and walking down the stairs of her classroom.

And maybe she wasn't being completely fair with them (particularly Chöji, Kamisama knew that Shikamaru always deserved her fury), but she couldn't help to be irritated when everything she dreamed was crumbling to the floor.

She will recover, of course, she always did, but she needed the frustration out of her somehow before picking herself up.

The boys were just unlucky enough to be on her team.

* * *

If Ino believed that he was running awkwardly towards the sunrise, with a big smile on his face and a basket full of flowers because of the team arrangement that Iruka had put them in, she was totally wrong.

Like, by a long shot.

First of all, he wasn't a morning person.

Second, yes, he had made fun of her when their sensei called their names together alongside Chöji, but that was only because she complained loudly about him. And even when he usually didn't even bother, that opportunity was just too good to let it pass.

Who knew that stupid joke would get her so mad at him.

 _The girl can hold a grudge._ He thought dismissively, opening his juice box.

But, let's be fair here, he already knew that. He didn't like it but he knew her better than what he was comfortable with, and she probably did it too. It was just one of the unpleasant consequences of growing up together, or rather, be forced to. The only one who seemed okay with the whole Team 10 deal was Chöji, but he already knew it would be like that too.

In all honesty, it seemed rather monotonous -not at all out of the ordinary- to be the three of them together waiting, the only thing that made it barely newer was their shared lack of knowledge on how the face of their new teacher was.

But Shikamaru could admit that he understood Ino to some extent (some little, very far away extent), she was never too pleased with hanging out with them (him, if he was completely honest), and he wasn't looking forward to hanging out with her either; so the prospect of having another teammate other than Ino it seemed… well, it seemed quite good.

But good doesn't automatically translate to profitable, so there.

"Hello, team."

The voice came from out of nowhere and Shikamaru gasped, blinking quickly to put himself out of the stupor. He glanced at Chöji out of habit and was relieved to see that he was just as shocked as he was. Ino also gasped, louder than them (high pitched voice, troublesome high pitched voice), so Shikamaru didn't need to look at her to know her reaction.

Well, no one could say the three of them weren't alike.

A tall man with a beard and a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips was looking at them with a smug look on his face, a smug look that Shikamaru didn't quite like because it meant that he enjoyed their reaction, and thus, would sneak up on them again.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

None of them were stupid enough to fall for that but also they were ashamed enough not to call him out on it.

"My name is Asuma. Sarutobi Asuma, and I will be your sensei." The man, Asuma, continued when he noted that none of them was actually moving.

"You?" Ino was the first one to respond, sort off, and while Shikamaru knew her well enough to know that the question was out of curiosity and not an insult in particular -although Ino didn't know how to speak without a jab because she was Ino and she was infuriating and such a _girly girl_ \- the man in front of them didn't.

"Yeap." He replied, scratching his beard.

That was… well, Shikamaru expected something else. He expected or hoped. Sometimes he couldn't really differentiate between the two.

"Sarutobi?" He blinked, looking at their new teacher up and down, trying to calculate an estimated age for him and therefore… "you mean that-"

"Let's get something out of the way," the man interrupted, calm but steady. "I'm not my father."

It was a response as well as a closure, Shikamaru couldn't believe that he of all people would be the one to piss him off. Logically, it shouldn't surprise him either.

None of them were sure how to continue, it was clear by the way silence settled between the three of them after such declaration.

(Again, no one could say they weren't alike and that, somehow, made him feel part of something he was sure they taught him to feel when it came to Ino-Shika-Chö but couldn't stop feeling nonetheless).

It was an open secret that the three of them would end up together in a team -much to his and Ino displeasure and hopes not to-, but having the Hokage's son to be the one guiding them and teaching them whatever they were supposed to be taught really took them by surprise, and Shikamaru truly didn't know if it meant that they had high hopes or they were just that desperate.

Although to be fair, wasn't the Sarutobi clan the one supposed to prepare them always? Maybe he was reading too much into something that wasn't that deep to begin with. As he said, Sarutobi Asuma wasn't Sarutobi Hiruzen.

But also Sarutobi Asuma was, in fact, the Hokage's son.

"So, uhm…" Asuma scratched the back of his head like a nervous response to their silence, "presentations would be nice."

A pause, and then.

"Well, hard to top _that_ one."

It was Ino. Of course it was Ino. And just as fast as the tension had grown between the new formed Team 10 at the leader's arrival it disappeared at Ino's wish. Like that, just like that. The inappropriate commentary that made everyone nervous for a split second and relaxed in what followed.

Asuma must have not suspected it such a response, so he laughed. Hard. The type of laugh that should have made him cough. Chöji giggled, because he was so easy to please, and even he allowed himself to breathe out a smirk. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew she had made it on purpose, but he chose to ignore it as to not be on debt or grateful.

"Oh, well. Maybe not the best introduction I have given." He chuckled, looking at Ino and taking the cigarette out of his mouth and pointing at her with it. She furrowed her eyebrows like the gesture was a personal offense against her, but Shikamaru knew already by the way Asuma smirked and put the cigarette in his mouth again before speaking that he already liked her. "You go next."

She smirked. If Shikamaru could tell Asuma liked her then, of course, Ino would notice as well, she probably knew what to say in order to get that reaction.

He knew them well enough not to pay attention and still reply when a question was asked and he was the one with the proper response. He wasn't happy but he will get used to it. To Asuma, the team and Ino, to whatever the hell people were expecting him to do. He was accustomed to getting used to things he never wanted but was given, and something told him he will never break that cycle.

But really, after how horrible the day started and how… nice it seemed to end, maybe, maybe there was hope.


	3. The red ribbon

**The red ribbon**

* * *

It shouldn't have surprised him when that tiny spark of hope turned into a wildfire and burned itself out of existence.

Really.

Out of the three of them, he should have known better, he should have known that there is always a secret scheme, a truth to uncover, a game to play. He should have known but he didn't, or rather, he ignored it in favor of attending to his hysterical companions, whose fears of being left out convinced him to begin a test that, within himself, he knew was fruitless.

Shikamaru has never seen a gënin squad of only two members, not once in all his years of council meetings that he now regrets not paying attention to, and that should have been a signal, that should have made him suspicious of Asuma's words but it didn't. Because he let himself be infected by the doubt and fear that his teammates had and that cost him his hope.

And to be honest? The three of them couldn't have been more stupid, knowing that their fathers had been on the same team since _gënin_ days.

At least he fabricated himself an excuse.

Shikaku would probably tell him that it made it even worse.

" _Here's the deal," Asuma had said, "I hid some things around the training ground, the first two of you who can bring one of the objects to me stays." He paused, looking at their twisted faces. "The other one is gone."_

He had never said what kind of objects they were looking for and none of them had asked, Chöji pushing him forward so he would start the search and not stay lazily behind. Chöji liked to play fair and he wasn't going to let him surrender just to have more hours of sleep.

The universe hated him. Kamisama especially.

But still, he searched for something in total blindness because what on earth was he supposed to look for, he searched with his heart hammering in his chest and biting his upper lip while Chöji's presence frantically begged him to look. He didn't want to leave his best friend alone.

It was such a weird thing, a weird and fragile thing he could turn into shreds by stretching it too much, it was impossible for him to overlook, his bright crimson color moving with the wind, entangled in the branch to which it was tied.

He was the last one to return, well past noon because he forgot the timeline.

But he wasn't the one without an object.

Ino was standing still, the sun cascading down her form roughly, making her face harder, somber. She was looking not at him but at the thing he was wearing around his wrist, he supposed it was because she realized what it meant, but Shikamaru wasn't sure Asuma appreciated more a task completed out of time than following his established limits.

Chöji relaxed his shoulders at seeing him but didn't smile.

It was like something had hit her because, before he could understand how or why, she was in front of him in a blur.

"This is mine!" She yelled at him, trying to take the cloth with her nails.

"What?" He pushed her, without being able to believe her reaction. "No, it isn't! I found it."

"Give it!" She yelled again, trying to grab him by the collar of his shirt.

"Stop it!" He retaliated by slapping her hands away. "Get over it Ino, you lost!"

He should have known.

"I said is mine!" She jumped at him, ready to kick his face and punch the hell out of him if her expression was any indication. But Chöji got in the way and grabbed her by the leg, turning her in the air and making her fall to the floor.

"Stop!" He screamed, begged. "Ino, _please_ , stop!"

"No!" She jumped to her feet again. "You stole it!"

Nothing was making any sense and that was when he finally, finally knew.

She was trying to run to him once more, Chöji looking more and more exasperated by the second, trying to pin her down.

"This was Sakura's." He mumbled. It wasn't a question but a statement.

Ino's eyes opened at that, maybe surprised at the fact that _he knew_ , that he remembered that she once had something like he and Chöji do. Because it didn't matter how many girls and boys were all over Ino she always seemed alone.

"You stole it." She looked defeated. Chöji letting go of her wrists.

"I did not."

And how many times could this piece of cloth broke her heart, he wondered.

"But is yours." He looked at her, forcing himself to shrug his shoulders like it wasn't a big deal, and stretched his hand for her to take it. It wouldn't have been the Ino he knew if she wasn't taking it off his wrist in half a second.

Ino finished the task of disentangling the red ribbon she loved so much from the wrist of the boy she didn't even appreciate and looked at him and swallowed, not a word leaving her mouth.

"You guys sure suck at this." Asuma appeared from the shadows where the three of them knew he was watching but forgot, making them gasp in surprise, the smug expression returning to his face. "Like, for real."

He could practically hear the sigh of exasperation his father would make.

"I see we have our winners," Asuma continued, walking more and more into the light, glancing at Chöji and Shikamaru respectively.

"The red ribbon is Ino's." He said matter of factly, winning expressions of disbelief of everyone in Team 10.

"What?" It was Ino and Asuma whose voices collided, but it shouldn't have been such a surprise, he was known to prefer sleeping over missions or status, so it wasn't really surprising he was giving her the object that was actually her possession to begin with.

"I said-"

"I don't want it."

 _Ah… what?_

It was his turn to look at her in disbelief. Asuma seemed incredulous, almost upset, and Chöji was clenching the doll he had in his hands so tightly he could have broken it.

(Shikamaru realized that the doll seemed strangely familiar to him. And it seemed strangely familiar to him because it was his. It used to be his. But he didn't remember that until one night when the two of them were eating at Ichiraku. Ino not surprisingly absent. His hand on his chin and his teeth clenched)

"I don't want… I don't want to be in this team if it means…" she was fighting with the words, "you found it, you stay." It was definitive.

And no, no, no, she was ruining it. Shikamaru was about to save them all from going back to the Academy and she was jeopardizing it.

"No. It was yours. You stay." He replied. "We both know that you want to be a ninja more than I do."

She looked at him and was ready to retort, but he beat her to it.

"You need the training more than I do anyway."

He almost chokes in the silence that followed.

"What did you just said?"

This. This he could work with. An angry Ino. He could handle an angry Ino, he was used to this part of her more than any other. An upset Ino would argue with him and do anything to prove him wrong and _that_ was what he needed. He needed to see -for Asuma to see, a determined Ino, not a defeated one, not a girl that felt pitied but the strong-willed girl that he knew she was, always trying to bend things in her favor.

"It's just my opinion." He shrugged.

She lifted her chin and put her hands on her hips, the red ribbon strongly secured on one of her fists. "Just your opinion? You asshole." She made a step towards him, ready to lash out her poisonous tongue, "I could beat you in a heartbeat, Chöji had to stop me so I wouldn't hurt you."

"I don't like fighting girls."

"And that's why you _clearly_ need the training more than I do. Maybe Asuma-sensei can teach you how not to underestimate your enemies. Or allies."

"See? That's why _you_ need more the training, you need to stop lashing out against your own comrades."

"You keep the place."

"No, you keep the place."

"Stop it! Guys. Here, have my place." Chöji offered the doll to whoever took it first.

"NO!" They both shouted.

"Keep the good damn place!"

"You keep it! I said I don't want it!"

"Both of you _clearly_ need to learn about teamwork so is one of you going to take my place or I'll have to _make you_ take it?"

"Stop." Asuma's voice wasn't a scream but it felt as high as one and the three of them glanced at him. "None of you is leaving this team." He deadpanned and grunted, pinching the bridge oh his nose. "This was supposed to be an easy test for you," it was a whisper, but all of them heard it.

"What?" Chöji's curiosity took over his shyness, something that didn't happen often enough as it should in Shikamaru's opinion.

Asuma looked at him, still pinching his nose. "Teamwork." He grunted, his hand falling off his face. "The last thing I thought you would be able to fail at."

It wasn't a stab but it felt just the same in his chest.

Asuma was shaking his head like he wanted to laugh. "Although you did sacrifice yourself for the other at the end. Sort of…" he looked up at the sky, "I never thought you would go as far as deflecting tho."

Deflecting? No. None of them were actually thinking about deflecting, it was just a stupid argument based on which pride was hurt the most. Nothing else.

"We weren't deflecting," Ino argued. "We were just…" but she couldn't continue, whatever she could think of didn't seem good enough.

"You are not children anymore." Asuma said simply, "you can't just quit because you didn't like something." He sat, focusing his gaze on her. "You can't just walk away."

(In the future, in a distant point that none of them could even imagine back then, Shikamaru will shout those same words to her, his heart trying to break free from his ribs. But she kept walking.)

"Still," Asuma breathed, looking completely exhausted. "You pass. We can work with that."

It didn't feel like winning.

Deflecting was a strong word, he definitely wasn't actually thinking on doing it, the argument was just a strategy to make Asuma see that they will leave something they wanted behind if that meant the other one would have it. That was the whole point, was it? To make sacrifices or whatever.

But they didn't do it out of conviction because they truly believed the other one deserved or because it was for the best.

Still, they did it.

But…

("Your pride must be bigger than the one of your enemies because you would never let yourself be killed by someone inferior. But your pride must never be bigger than Konoha." His father said to him when he was little, he said it so casually that Shikamaru didn't think it was actually important, moreover considering that at the time Shikaku was drunk.

He never said that while sober.)

Ino was walking in front of the two of them while returning to their respective houses, weirdly quiet, weirdly wounded where it hurt her the most, for many reasons, but one dyed flash of red to the rest and he knew, as Chöji did, that there were no words of comfort.

(Chöji knew how to hug her to make her feel better, but they weren't in that place just yet).

It wasn't his pride that Asuma spoke about.

But even their sensei had it all wrong. It wasn't pride what she defended.

It was love.

And really, he hated that he knew, he hated that he knew her that well despite his best efforts. A piece of cloth was more important to her than he would -could- ever be, and while he didn't particularly care for Ino it wounded him in the deepest part of his esteem to know himself less worthy than a ribbon.

There was no hope for this team.


End file.
